I do not not not not not like her.

Bitch.

She condems everyone for all this stuff then does it herself.

You, my dear, are an idiom.
You, sir, are an idiot.
If you were to conceive a baby,
I would suggest you got rid of it.

Jimmy Eat World - The Middle

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

What?! WHAT?!

Double-jeopardy. Fuckin' fuck, man.

Of course she got the part. How could she not? He loves her. She's pretty. She looks like a secretary. Even if she won't kiss people onstage.

And of course he gave parts with swears to people who are too wholesome and Christian to swear, and of course he bent over backwards to give the small, Christian girls new lines without swears that would hurt their little Christian ears

WHEN I OBVIOUSLY DISPLAYED IN MY AUDITION THAT I COULD BE ON TIME, WOULD GIVE UP SOME CLUBS ON SOME DAYS FOR DRAMA, WOULD BE WILLING TO SWEAR -AND- CONQUER MY GIANT FEAR OF KISSING ON STAGE.

but that's not enough, is it?

[Just try to tell him how you feel without sounding like a huge girl.]
"I miss you so much it hurts sometimes." - Scrubs

I am miserable without it.
Maybe not him, just it.

I AM MISERABLE. TOTALLY, TOTALLY MISERABLE.
WHAT THE HELL.
I HAVE NEVER FELT LIKE THIS.
I AM SO GIVING INTO THE FEMALE TEENAGE CLICHE AT THE MOMENT.
FUCK IT.

Define Me

Girls are Boys and Boys are Girls, Girls like Boys but Boys like Boys, Girls like Girls that like Boys who like Boys back, Goy and Birl, once were seperated, wrongfully, Boy Goy Girl Birl He She He-She, no more girls and boys, just unidentifiable masses messes of people

Cans Labels Labels Clothes Clothes Skirts Skirts Girls Girls Boys Boys Girls Boys Girls People

Gloria

Gloria sat on the chair.
The chair was white.
In the scheme of things, the color of the chair didn't matter.
The color of the chair didn't even exist.
White isn't even a color.
It is a pathetic lack thereof, competiting in the Aurora Borealis.
The chair was the color of Gloria.
White. But white isn't a color.
Gloria was white, and she thought white.
She drank white, ate white and wore white.
Not all the time, of course.
But it felt like it. Always, always a lack of color.
There was a lack of everything.
Where was the blue and the red? The purple?
Green had packed up and left town a long time ago.
Yellow, forget about it, once it saw Gloria...
Once any color saw Gloria, it just gave up.
Gloria didn't know the difference.
Yellow was the same as white to her.
Blue was white, and so was orange.
Gloria sat in the chair. She was white.
White, she thought, is purple.
White is green and white is blue.
Whatever I see is white, and it can stay that way.
What I think is white.
When I talk, white falls out of me.
When I cry, I cry white.
I see white and white sees me.
Gloria sat thinking of white.
White had always been there.
Even when you couldn't see the pink, the gold.
White was always there for her when nothing else was.
When people spoke to her, it was white, too.
White came back and was constant.
White knew her, inside out.
White was her only friend.
Gloria sat in the chair.
What was a rainbow? She thought.
It's an absurd idea.
Put all of those colors near eachother, she mused.
Somebody was going to get hurt.
I guess somebody had to get hurt.
She supposed it had to be her.
Gloria didn't want the colors anymore.
They were useless.
White was her only friend.
White would never leave her.